


All Loved Up: The Lady Blackmailer

by Rysler



Category: Gentleman Jack (TV)
Genre: 1930s, F/F, Los Angeles, Private Detectives, alllovedup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:13:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29429364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rysler/pseuds/Rysler
Summary: Lots of exposition leads to sex and peril.
Relationships: Anne Lister (1791-1840)/Ann Walker (1803-1854)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 58





	All Loved Up: The Lady Blackmailer

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know anything about 1930s Los Angeles, but I just watched Mank and I’m obsessed with the new Perry Mason.

_1930s, Los Angeles_

Anne Lister considered the young woman in front of her. Ann Smith. What a preposterous fake name. Mid-Atlantic accent, no ink on her fingers, a dress that cost more than Anne’s shabby suit. Anne had expected a local girl. Maybe called Candy, or Lily. Even if Anne hadn’t been a private eye, she’d have figured that Ann Smith was an imposter. Yet the girl had come from the secretarial pool, typed fast, knew shorthand, and had only chuckled at the more obnoxious things Anne had done in the interview to weed out the weaklings. She’d also accepted Anne’s ridiculously low salary.

It was just a trial run.

“Thank you, Miss Lister,” Ann said, and offered her hand to shake.

“Oh, don’t call me that,” Anne said, cringing.

“Shall I call you the Lady Blackmailer?” Ann asked, smiling.

_This little woman had done her homework_.

Anne shook it heartily. “Please, call me Anne.”

“Only if you call _me_ Ann,” Ann said.

“Of course.” Anne wasn’t going to call her Miss Smith. That wasn’t her name. “Start on Monday?”

“At 8?” Ann asked.

“Please. At 10. Brandy?”

“Maybe when I know you better.”

_Had Ann winked?_

Anne waved her off, and drank her brandy by herself.

***

Ann showed up at 9:45 on Monday morning, and had to wait for Anne to show up and unlock the door. She looked haggard.

“Are you drunk?” Ann asked.

“Not yet,” Anne mumbled. “Stake-out last night. Got some pretty good photographs though. Can you get them developed?”

“You don’t develop them yourself?”

“Of course not. That’s an extremely laborious and annoying process.”

“Okay,” Ann said.

In the office, Anne showed her the files for casework and billing—surprisingly organized—and the address book, and the phone.

“Most people don’t phone,” Anne said. “They just show up.”

The office had a lobby with a desk, and then Anne’s office created by some plywood and cheap shelving.

Ann sat at the desk. “Do you use any particular film developer?”

“Hemingway. Two blocks away. Always tip.”

“Do I have an expense account?”

Anne opened her wallet and dropped $40 on the desk. “I don’t need receipts, but I’m not an idiot,” she said.

“I know,” Ann said.

_Did she wink again?_

Anne went back to her office to muse while she wrote down the notes from last night’s stakeout. It was lucky Ann wasn’t her type. She wasn’t an evil married woman. Otherwise, Anne might be attracted to her.

***

They got along swimmingly, Ann not minding Anne’s big-brained rants and Anne not minding that Ann under-billed the poorer clients despite signed contracts.

They started eating dinner together once a week. And then five times a week.

Tonight, they were at Ann’s favorite Chinese restaurant. The air was starting to turn cold and the sun set early, making it a cozy setting inside.

Anne was drinking rum punch, and Ann was making fun of her.

“I know why you drink brandy,” Ann said. “It’s cheaper than bourbon.”

Anne shook her head, grinning. “It’s cheaper than wine. And keeps longer.”

They ate for a while. Ann had a habit of drumming her fingers on the table. A nervous tic. Anne was about to ask about it when Ann looked up, meeting her eyes with a sly grin.

“That woman,” Ann started. “Used to call once a day. She hasn’t called in weeks.”

“Mariana. We broke it off.” Anne tried to look disaffected, but it still hurt. Even though it had been her idea.

“So you’re single? Should I alert _Variety_?” Ann smirked.

“I wouldn’t date an actress. They work ten hours a day. I would like a companion to pay me a little more attention.”

“Mm.”

Anne felt a tightness in her chest. She swallowed some of her own rum punch, chosen ironically to annoy Ann. “I used to think a rich celebrity was my ticket out of the mundane middle class. But after the debacle with Mariana, I decided to make my own fortune.”

“Hence your side business,” Ann said.

_The blackmailing, yes._

“It’s lucrative,” Anne said.

“What’s the debacle with Mariana?”

“Do you have a list of questions?” Anne asked.

“I rather do,” Ann said.

Anne exhaled. “All right. She’s married. And not to me.”

Ann frowned, for the first time that night. “I wouldn’t have expected you to be that sort of person.”

“Me either. It’s amazing what sort of life you fall into.” Anne considered. “Are you going to share your past with me?”

“No,” Ann said. “Not tonight.” She pointedly took a sip of rum punch, still frowning.

“Okay. But...” Anne paused.

“Do you have a problem with my work?” Ann asked.

“Not exactly. But you...I’ve seen you get fretful about things. Sometimes when you leave early, you seem to be on the verge of tears. You have nerves.”

Ann pursed her lips, but said nothing.

“Do I make you nervous?” Anne asked. “Because I don’t want—“

“No, no. It’s a condition,” Ann said.

“It doesn’t bother me. But I’m sorry to see you that way.”

Ann reached across the table for Anne’s hand. “Thank you for being thoughtful.”

“Sure.” Anne shrugged.

“Someone else would have fired me that day I spilled coffee all over the Anderson case files.”

“No skin off my nose if you have to type them again.” Anne offered a sly grin.

Ann grinned back.

Anne squeezed her fingers, then let go to resume eating. _There_ , she thought. _From acquaintances to friends._

***

After another three months, Anne took Ann to Perino’s for dinner on Valentine’s Day. They were pretending that didn’t mean anything. It was for fun, only. They sat on the same side of the table, knees touching.

Ann wore a new dress, Anne wore a new suit.

“How did you get into Perino’s?” Ann asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never seen you even mention a movie star,” Ann said. “Yet here they all are.”

“You know my clients.”

“I’ve never heard of most of them.”

“They’re not the actors. They’re the people that _pay_ the actors. The more disposable people. With more open secrets that don’t make the papers.”

“They don’t make the papers because of you,” Ann said.

“Precisely.”

“Will you let me pay for the wine?”

“Yes.”

Ann raised her eyebrows. “You’re not going to even ask how, on the terrible salary you pay me?”

“I gave you a raise three months ago.”

“It was a quarter.”

Anne wrinkled her nose. “I know you have a lot of money.” _Was it time to have it all out?_

Ann paled.

Anne wasn’t stopping. “And tonight, I’m going to find out why. Order the wine.”

They had a big stinky Bordeaux with their duck, and Anne ate her fill before tearing into her prey.

“What’s your real name?” Anne asked.

Ann had been loosened by the wine, and barely hesitated before answering. “Ann Walker.”

“And what’s a good girl like you from a Good Family doing in a secretarial pool in Los Angeles?”

Ann slowly grinned. She took an even slower sip of wine. Then said, “Would you believe me if I told you I escaped from a mental institution?”

“No.” Anne leaned back and folded her arms. The girl had her nervous condition, but who didn’t? She studied Ann. “No. Really?”

“Escaped, went home, stole $10,000 in cash, took the bus to Los Angeles.”

“From where?”

“Fresno.”

Those big estates, Anne thought. All that money. “Why get a job at all?”

“Part of my disguise. I knew my family wouldn’t be looking for a secretary.”

Anne nodded.

Ann took another bite of duck, and then frowned. “You knew the whole time, didn’t you?”

“Not the specifics,” Anne said. “But yes.”

Ann pursed her lips.

“I’d say I know your quirks pretty well, Ann. It seems extreme to throw a lady like you into an asylum.”

“There’s more to the story,” Ann said. “And you might relate to it.” She winked.

That wink slayed Anne every time. This time her toes curled. “I’m intrigued.”

“I was caught, at 15, kissing a girl.”

“We’ve all done that.” Anne waved her hand. “It’s not the 19th century anymore.”

“A Black girl,” Ann said, grinning again.

“Ah.” The picture was fuller now. “And you got sent off. Would a nunnery have been worse? What happened to her?”

“Her family got fired from the estate and moved to San Francisco. I haven’t been able to find her.”

“Were you in love?” Anne twinged with jealous.

“No, we were just children,” Ann said.

Anne exhaled.

Ann reached across the table and took Anne’s hand. “My heart has never belonged to anyone. I’ve only been tempted once.”

Anne gazed at their fingers, and intertwined them.

Without letting go, Ann said. “But your heart does. Even if she doesn’t call.”

“Mariana? No. I don’t want that anymore.”

“You don’t?”

“I think I’ve found something better.”

Ann ducked her head.

“A little risky, telling me your history. What if I hadn’t been tolerant?”

“You have plenty of Black clients.”

“Other reputable firms won’t take them.”

“And many clients don’t want a woman private eye,” Ann said.

Anne nodded. “How long were you in the asylum?”

“13 years.”

Anne’s jaw dropped. “Why leave? Why after so long? And how are you so… not traumatized?”

“It wasn’t bad. I felt safe. Safer than with my terrible family. The people were nice. But then…” Ann pulled her hand away, and looked Anne in the eye. “A woman came and gave a lecture. For education day, you know. ‘The art of detection: Fingerprints.’ And she was the most captivating, exciting woman I’d ever seen. And if she was out there, what was I doing inside? You know, I dreamt of you.”

Anne had flushed red. “How,” she asked in wonder. “Did you ever find me?”

Ann laughed. “By accident. None of the other girls in the pool wanted a woman boss, and there you were on the list. A. Lister. I would have tracked you down. But not quite so soon.”

“Goodness,” Anne said.

Ann lifted her wine glass in a toast. “Shall we have the chocolates for dessert?” She asked cheekily. “It is Valentine’s Day.”

“Then we must,” Anne said.

***

They stumbled out of the cab, up the dark stairway, and into Anne’s apartment. As she turned on the lights, she had the presence of mind to be embarrassed by the skull on the bookcase, the microscope on the table.

Ann didn’t seem to mind. She tossed her coat onto the back of Anne’s couch without question, and then reached for Anne’s. They were both panting, touching each other hesitantly. They hadn’t kissed.

No private eye was going to let herself be photographed en flagrante delicto. And the cabbie might have robbed him.

Ann tossed Anne’s coat to the side and reached for her tie.

“Ann.” Anne captured her hands, stopping her.

Ann’s lips were parted.

Anne stepped forward, slowly, so that their hands were pinned between their breasts. She kissed Ann. Ann’s lips were cool, but her mouth, her tongue, burned. Ann let go of Anne’s hands and gripped her shoulders.

Anne held Ann’s waist, kissing her firmly, kissing her lightly, tasting what she’d wanted to taste for weeks now.

“Bedroom?” Anne asked, breathing hard. Did Ann know what she wanted? Had she ever..?

“I don’t know where it is,” Ann said, tugging on Anne’s tie again.

Anne led her to the room at the back of the apartment. Instead of turning the overhead light on, she lit an oil lamp on the bed stand. Then she turned to Ann and began unknotting her tie.

Ann bit her lip, watching.

Anne tossed it to the floor and slid out of her jacket.

Ann toed off her heels.

Anne went to work on the buttons of her shirt.

“Let me,” Ann said, coming close and taking over.

Anne held her breath as Ann pushed open her shirt. She let it all out at once when Anne kissed her chest, above her breast. Then Ann turned her around and unclasped her bra.

Anne fought the urge to cover herself. It had been too long since she’d been seen by a new person.

“Turn around,” Ann said softly.

Anne turned around. Ann had shed her dress and stood in camisole and stockings.

“Ann,” Anne said.

“Hurry up. I don’t think I can wait.”

Anne unbuckled her belt, still hesitant, but Ann was also shedding the rest of her clothes at lightning speed. Before stepping out of her men’s trousers, Anne turned down the blankets on the bed. She’d had everything laundered. She’d hoped Perino’s would lead to a great night.

This exceeded everything.

She took Ann, now nude, in her arms, and gently guided her down onto the sheets. She kissed Ann. Ann tangled her fingers in Anne’s hair and intensified the kiss. Her legs invited Anne’s thigh between them. Maybe she had done this before. Anne decided not to ask.

She moved with Ann, their hips rocking, their mouths meeting again and again. She cupped Ann’s breast and moved to kiss it, but Ann tugged at her hair. “Stay here.”

Anne met her gaze, and then acceded, letting their bodies slide together fully.

When Ann was too breathless for kissing, Anne braced herselfwith one arm and slid her free hand down Ann’s stomach.

“Please,” Ann said, her eyes closed.

Anne’s fingers sank into wetness. Ann resettled her grip on Anne’s shoulders.

“You’re beautiful,” Anne said, stroking her. “Lovely.”

Ann grunted, thrusting against Anne’s hand.

“Anne,” Ann gasped, as a shudder went through her. She clung to Anne, stilling, and then sinking back into the sheets, spent. Her eyes opened. She smiled.

Anne kissed her and then rolled onto her side. “Let’s do that again, eh?”

“Oh, yes,” Ann said.

Presently, Ann slipped onto Anne, a hand at her waist, and began kissing a trail between her breasts.

“You don’t have to—“ Anne started.

“Oh,” Ann interrupted, her mouth against Anne’s stomach. “I do.” She slid lower.

Anne spread her legs, accepting her fate. She knew who was boss.

***

Anne was glad Ann was out running errands when Charles Lawton showed up. She wouldn’t want that gun, pointed at her, to be pointed anywhere else. She’d been clipping coupons in the newspaper, and was a bit annoyed he found her disheveled.

“Charles,” she greeted him.

She never carried a gun. She didn’t want to get caught with one. She needed plausible deniability in her profession. She regretted it now.

“Anne.”

Charles had closed the door behind him. Ann opened it, and came in. “Hello. Oh. Sorry to interrupt?” She saw the gun and dropped her parcel, which thudded on the floor. Nerves.

Charles looked Ann over from head to toe, and sneered.

“Ann, this is Charles Lawton,” Anne said tiredly.

He waved the gun at Ann, who went over to Anne, and to her surprise, kissed her solidly on the mouth.

“Mmf,” said Anne.

Charles cringed in disgust.

Ann turned around with her most dazzling smile. “Lawton. As in Mariana Lawton?”

_So much for playing coy_.

Charles frowned.

“What do you do, Mr. Lawton?”

“He’s lawyer to the stars. He gives them a little trichomoniasis, too. Doesn’t affect men, you see.”

“Penicillin is a wonderful drug, Anne,” Charles said.

“So it is,” she said.

Ann took Anne’s elbow. “And why are you here, Mr. Lawton?”

With his free hand, Charles pulled out a letter. “Mariana’s been distraught for months. She wouldn’t tell me the cause. But she hasn’t received a letter from you in that time except for this one.”

“I was saying my goodbyes,” Anne said, eyeing the gun. “I thought you’d be pleased.”

Charles shook the letter. “It’s in code.”

“May I?” Ann stepped toward him, hand outstretched.

He handed over the envelope. She pulled out the letter and studied it.

“Dear Mariana,” Ann read. “I am finally writing to say goodbye. That friend I told you about has become a very dear friend. We are quite settled now.” Ann glanced at Anne with a shy smile. “I dare say she is a lovely companion. Don’t write me back. I won’t open the letters. Very sincerely, A. Lister.”

Anne looked open-mouthed at Ann, who shrugged and handed the letter back to Charles.

He lowered the gun. “So everyone can read it but me. Splendid.”

“Go back to Santa Barbara,” Anne said.

“I know what you do, Anne. Don’t dare think of doing it to me. Or any of my girls.”

“While they’re still yours. We have an agreement, Charles. I shan’t alter it.”

He nodded, glanced again at Ann, and left.

Ann sank to the floor, panting.

Anne knelt and took Ann in her arms. “You did very well.”

“I…” Ann heaved. “He had a gun.”

“I know. But he was holding it all wrong. He would have missed me by a smile.”

Ann looked up and gave Anne a tiny smile.

Anne kissed her forehead.

“Did you mean what you said in the letter?” Ann asked, letting Anne help her stand up.

“I did,” Anne said.

“When did you write it?”

“The night we had Chinese and discussed Mariana. It was time.”

“Thank you,” Ann said. She let Anne envelop her, and pressed her face against Anne’s chest.

“Ann?” Anne asked.

“Yes, my dearest.”

“When did you crack my code?”

Ann laughed and looked at Anne’s incredulous face. “My second week. It’s in your case files, you know. You write all the gossipy bits about your marks.”

“Yes, but. That isn’t for your consumption.” Anne huffed.

“But I’m your lovely companion,” Ann said.

Anne held her close. “So you are.”

“Ann. He really scared me.”

“Mm.”

“Do you think that’s a good excuse to take some of our money and take a vacation to New York City?”

“Absolutely. They have carriage rides.”

Ann squeezed her. “So. You don’t blackmail Lawton.”

“Seems crass,” Anne said.

“What about my family?”

“What about them?”

Ann giggled against Anne’s chest. “You’ve never sought them out?”

“No.”

Ann pressed a kiss to Anne’s neck. “I don’t believe you.”

“Okay. I’ve drafted the letter several times. But I’d rather have you free and clear of all that. I love you more than money,” Anne said.

“You are very sweet,” Ann said.

“What do you love me more than?” Anne asked.

“Oh. Um. Well, my family, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“And…” Ann tilted her head back, and grinned as Anne cupped her cheek. “Greta Garbo.”

“More than Greta Garbo? Strong words,” Anne said, chuckling.

Their foreheads touched.

“That being said, can we go see _Queen Christina_ again?”

“I rather wouldn’t mind,” Anne said.

“You look better in a suit, though.”

“Flatterer,” Anne said.

“I’m not so sure about a cape,” Ann said.

Anne narrowed her eyes.

Ann pulled her in for a long kiss.


End file.
